Benedict's Journal
by Tidbit03
Summary: I've found myself in an... unusual predicament. It should have been day by now, but all I see is never ending night through the tree tops. What's worse, I think I might die here. If you've found this journal... then share my findings with the world, for I surely am no longer a part of it.
1. Chapter 1

_Benedict Baker_

_Journal Entry 1_

I don't know what this place is, or where this place is, but I've come to the conclusion that time doesn't exist here. It's already been some time since my arrival, and I only now managed to get my hands on some form of paper to write down my thoughts and findings. But even as time surely passes in this place, the moon never moves from its constant fixture in the sky above. Even stranger was the absence of the multitudes of stars that normally would surround the moon with their company, making the sky a strange, empty scape of black. It felt quite lonely, to look up and see the cratered surface and not see the lights of millions glinting in the dark, which had been a familiar sight since I could first remember.

Which leads to my first order of business. Before I got my hands on this scrap of paper, I was able to wander the lands that made this place. I traveled through a thick oak forest with trees so tall, I couldn't see their tops. They cast a thick blanket of shadow, making the dark woods even darker. Here and there, I could see buildings; a store house, a leaning, decrepit water tower, a huge dead tree reaching up to the light of the moon. I'm sure the landscape would be quite charming in the light of the sun, but that light would never reach this place. Now and again, I would watch as the shadows came to life and lurched from one patch of darkness to another, carefully keeping track of their surroundings and me. I never saw their faces, and I never could really tell where they were from or even the color of their shirts, but I never saw the same one twice. I only knew they had gone when their screams rung out over the boughs and rustled the leaves.

The constant in their deaths was a man I had come to call the Trapper. He prowled the estate, much like the shadows he hunted, but his presence was that of a starved lion in search of its meal. He was no shadow, built much like the trees that grew and harbored his home. His arms were thick, bulging with thick cords of muscles. His thick barrel chest heaved with every breath he forced through that bone white mask. It smiled its toothy, jagged grin, sending shivers down my spine every time I happened to get a glance at his masked appearance. And it was almost always as the blood of his latest victim was being splashed across that stark whiteness. There was no rhyme or reasons to the killings, no motive other than to simply feel the splash of their crimson essence upon his dirty skin. I wanted to ask, with all my might, why on earth he slaughtered numbers upon numbers of people, but my voice never seemed to work when I was close enough to him to try to get his attention. Maybe it was the images of his victims flashing behind my eyes.

In an effort to leave him and the screams of the shadows behind, I walked beyond the trees and brick walls, through a gate of some sort to another forest that extended far into the distance. All I could see where trees. A number of times, I found myself back in that same place, gazing into the dark to see Mr. Smiley prowling the dark in search of the hopeless souls that would succumb to his blade. Every time I found myself back here, I would turn around immediately to traipse back into the unending oak forest. After maybe two more times of making a full loop back, I found my feet sinking into the muck of someplace new.

Rows upon rows of corn shielded much of my view of the place. I could barely make my way through the maze of maize, finding my fortune when I stumbled upon a broken-down hay baler. Climbing it proved fortuitous; I could see the remains of a toppled over silo lit by the yellow light of the harvest moon. From this vantage, I could see the chipping red paint of a set of lockers within, and the outline of some metallic thing that had yet another one of those shadow people tending to it. Their head was on a constant swivel, their sights jumping from the rows of corn to the hay bales that stood in stacks around the dilapidated wooden structure, and to the trees that grew few and far between around the crops. The reason for their unease didn't take long to be realized.

In a frenzy of revving engines and low groaning, the monstrous being sprinted through the corn with its chainsaw held over its head. That very same saw collided with the shadow being that had been toiling so hard on that ancient machine, and the being was no more. I had to turn away from the intense bloodshed and screeching that now violated the very air. But averting my eyes had proven to be fruitless; a large tree, not unlike those in the darkened forest I had come from, stood tall amongst the rubble of cobbled stone. On its large branches, it supported the weight of groaning, bleeding livestock, bovines and swine alike swinging by their ankles which were bound by thick rope. I dared not look into the lifeless, swollen eyes of their rotting skulls.

The massacre in the silo quieted. I could hear the rattle of the monster's breath through its malformed nostrils even from this distance. Peering towards the dilapidated structure once more, I could see its hulking form lifting some bloody article- a leg, that was a leg. Now that it had all these bloody parts and pieces, it seemed unsure what to do with them. It sniffed the leg it held in its elongated fingers, used its other hand to pull the meat from the bone and taste it with a slobbering tongue, then tossed the bloodied bones aside in favor of keeping itself occupied with its fresh meat. It was hard to believe that the bloody flesh in its hands once belonged to a living being, but I decided not to dwell on it too much.

And so, it seemed, did the others. Those who had managed to survive this thing the first time knew to stay hidden in the shadows and keep well out of sight. That chainsaw would mangle and shred whatever it tore into, be it wood or flesh. I watched one such shadow being creep around from behind the silo, where he had been hiding away from the eyes of the monster. But he didn't watch his feet; a branch snapped under his weight, and the man with the chainsaw was revving it in search of the disturbance.

No sooner had the shadow darted back into the safety did the creature descend on it, and the screams began anew.

I sat in the safety of the baler, resting my back against the cold metal that framed this upper portion. Where the hell was I supposed to go from here? I couldn't just run back out of here the way I came; that was a surefire way to get myself mauled. Thinking back now, all the shadows I've seen up to this point have had one thing in common; they all seemed fascinated with working on those broken-down generators that seemed abundant in the most ridiculous places. Those must be the way out, then, or at least part of the way out.

Finding and working on one of the aforementioned contraptions would, of course, be easier said than done. I rose up onto my knees to again peer around the locale, feeling uneasy that the chainsaws and screaming had been subdued for some time now. I could see the lights of a few generators, already muttering quietly. I counted one, two, three fully functioning machines, and sputtering lights from four more that hadn't been revived just yet. How many did we have to do? My heart sunk at the thought of needing to repair seven of these things, but it was the only way, wasn't it?

No use sitting around waiting for the inevitable. I stood and dusted off my slacks, and carefully made my way off the old farming equipment. The first generator I knew to check was the one in the silo, but that meant facing the heap of flesh that was surely still there. Carefully making my way to the old silo, I had the thought that if the mangled man did happen to get his hands on me, maybe it wouldn't be so bad. Sure, the pain would be agonizing, but it would be better than the constant stress and fear that made my chest ache. I kept my eyes averted from the bloody mess in the dome of the silo, choosing instead to keep my attention on the crossed wires now held in my hands.

Which wire went which way? I tied a few together, cleaned and changed a few cogs, and managed to get the thing up and running. Well, that wasn't so hard. These things just needed a good cleaning, and they ran as though they had never been broken. Dusting off my slacks yet again, I turned away from the generator-

And looked straight into the empty white gaze of the monster. Up close, it was hideous. It only really had one nostril, and its mouth was permanently agape to display incomplete rows of adult and baby teeth alike, in varying hues of yellows in some angle that was anything but straight. It's face almost looked as though someone had tried to sculpt a human and a canvas bag at the same time, resulting in bunched muscle and flesh that appeared to be pulled in one spot over the creature's left eye. I took a slow step back, and it responded in a gaited step forward, though it did not instigate a chase like it had with all the others running around the fields. It gripped a mallet tightly in its long fingers, the chainsaw in the other, and being this close I could smell the stench of sweat and grime that hung heavy in this creature's mottled clothing.

"Hey, uh, buddy." I whispered, trying to keep a level head though I knew the end was nigh. "That's, ah, quite the chainsaw you've got there." It didn't react to my open palm that gestured towards its weapon, other than to tilt its head to one side. It was inspecting me, just as I had inspected it. "Well, it was nice chatting, I need to be going. Things to attend to and whatnot." I took another step back, closer towards the dome of the silo, which did incite a reaction. The creature sidestepped me and limped towards the bloody pile it had left behind, assuming a defensive posture now that it stood over its kill. "Oh! Oh, I don't want that, its all yours. I'll go this way?" I opted to go the way I had come, back towards the hay baler, but I only walked backwards. There was no way I was going to turn my back to this thing.

The creature was satisfied. It sat heavily on the creaking boards, letting the weaponry slide from its elongated hands so it could instead pick up something from the bloody mess of a pile. Quickly, I made my hasty retreat from the silo in search of the next objective.

I didn't need to search long, nor was my assistance needed. The shadows got the generators up and running on their own. I could feel a surge of electrical currents underfoot, travelling through the dirt and dust towards some large structure in the distance. The gates, I assumed. I passed around ramshackle wooden walls and flaming barrels, walked through the tall stalks of corn, and arrived at the metal sheets that barred the exits from the shadow people. Remarkable, how complex this strange world was. Corrugated sheets of steel, nailed and strapped together, fixed to a track that would roll the doors back into the brick frame of the large doorway. My eyes wandered the cables that stretched overtop the doorframe and hung down to connect to a power box, which was home to a lever.

So that's all it takes to get out of one of these… what situation was I in? It didn't seem right to call it a match, since there wasn't really any fighting. Perhaps mauling? No, that didn't seem right either. The point was that the escape was here, and all that needed to be done was the repair of five generators out of the seven on the map, which are located sparingly. Some are closer to each other than others… It could be dangerous if three generators were left unrepaired in close proximity to one another when it came to the last objective. Pulling the lever now, I had to ponder on a proper way to do the generators, without alerting the monsters to any activity or crossing their path. The simplest solution was to spread the work; more hands in generators meant more were getting done, but at a slower pace. This also didn't account for the death that the others would surely face. Working together on generators meant the work was done quicker, but there would be more of us in one place.

The doors squealed as they opened, pulling me from my wanderings. It was time to get out. I only spared a single look back before making my way through the gates and into the woods beyond. The trees just went further, and further, extending further than the eye could see and eventually melting into the plane of shadows on the horizon. My knees were aching from all the walking, crouching, and hiding that I had found myself doing, and I was desperate to rest. But there was no telling when the next monster would appear, where from, or if I was safe from their hunts until I stumbled into another one of their territories. Surely, I could spare a moment to rest.

No sooner had I sat upon the damp moss did I see a strange sight. The shadows seemed to move on their own, warping around an invisible, rattling mass. I squinted, trying to make sense of it, for there was no way that an invisible entity could be possible. Until, of course, I was proven wrong by the thing itself. Embers flared to life, twisting up its long legs and revealing dark, painted skin. I saw bandages, tattered clothes, a piece of fabric that passed for a shawl, a face that looked as ragged as the bark of the tree I leaned against, and a hand that held tightly to an intact spine. The spine was what grabbed my attention most, for other than the skull that topped it to clearly be used for clubbing, it was also equipped with a sharpened blade and a thick bell, the source of its power.

It was a very tall being, and it stared at me with those same blank white eyes that the malformed creature in the cornfields had. But this creature was different than that thing. It didn't seem to hold any malice, didn't seem intent on hunting, and held an almost intelligent gleam to its blank stare. But in the shadows of this forest, when the only thing I could see clearly were its eyes, it wasn't a comfort. I made no moves, nor did it. Standing so still, it almost resembled a statue, I figured it would be safe to maybe talk to it.

"What got you into this mess, huh…?" I thought it a safe enough question to ask. A weak chuckle bubbled from my chest at just how ridiculous my situation was. Trapped in a never-ending forest, running in circles from cannibal monsters just to repair a series of broken-down generators and do it all again for the amusement of, what, wasting time? I had to be dreaming, right? There was no way this was real. My hands pushed through my unkempt hair, doing nothing to soothe my nerves. "What got _me _into this mess?"

"I don't know why the Overseer chose you."

Its voice was raspy, masculine, and heavy with an un-American accent. I wasn't sure what type of accent it was and didn't think it right to try to guess. What was important was the fact that this thing actually answered my question, which I didn't think it would. I caught its eyes once more, watching it lower itself into a cross-legged position just a few feet in front of me. It was being friendly, then, which wasn't unwelcome though a little unnerving, given the circumstances. It placed its weapon aside, just within arms' reach, but did not keep a hand on its handle.

"The Overseer?" I repeated the word, pushing down the buildup of questions I was beginning to find myself with. Who was he? Who were the other monsters? Where were we? _When _were we? But one question at a time, I didn't want to overwhelm the thing. But the being seated before me wasn't necessarily a thing; it was intelligent, it could speak, and it knew of things in this world that I did not.

"The Overseer chooses Its people." The being rattled, folding its hands in its lap as it tilted its head to the side. "Though the people it chooses are more like wisps than people. You are different. You are whole." It raised a long finger and made a very pointed gesture at me. "But you are not like us."

"Not like who?" I pressed, ravenous for the knowledge it held. "Who are you?"

But it didn't answer. Its attention was elsewhere now, turned up to the boughs of the trees overhead where a flock of darkly feathered birds perched. Crows. Their glinting eyes bore into mine, searching my thoughts, dwelling upon an inner monologue that seemed too intelligent for a crow to harbor. The being before me must know something about this; it stood and waved its hands at the things, sending the animals scattering for higher branches in other trees.

"Not here."

Not here? What wasn't here? I made an effort to stand, but my legs had sunken into the ease of being seated and would not budge. I could already feel the ache setting in from all the running and crouching I had done to this point, and the chill of the damp ground would not aide in this particular situation. Reaching a hand above me, I managed to grab tight onto a piece of the tree at my back and pull myself into a standing position.

I shouldn't have stood up. Between the blood rushing to my head and the soreness of my legs, I barely registered that the being had retrieved its bladed club. I felt the skull push against my chest, listened as the creature's breath rattled between its parted lips. Had this been any other situation, I would have thought this being were rather handsome; but I had to look at the reality of it. I was exhausted, and this thing knew that. It already had its weapon at my chest.

I expected death. I only hoped it would be quick.

But it never came. Instead, I heard the word, "Come."

So I did. The skull fell away from my sternum, and it wrapped its long, spindly fingers about my wrist. It led me deeper, deeper into the woods until they opened under a yellowed sky. Still, that damned moon taunted me with its eerie glow, lending its light to the massive wreckage before me. Piles of cars, an assortment of scrap, a scattering of birch trees and the ever-present generators that seemed to call every locale home. But we went past those machinations, past the bright bits of metal and plastic, and went straight for the building that I had seen a few times before. A shack, decrepit, wooden, a patched-together structure held in place by metal sheets and beams at its corners. I swallowed, not sure I enjoyed the thought of entering this hut with the creature that dragged me along, but I didn't have a choice, did I?

The inside was not what I expected at all. I remembered the inside faintly from wandering inside on another patch of land; lockers, and occasionally a generator. Inside this one, however, waited a different surprise.

The massive man I had first come to meet.

The Trapper.


	2. Chapter 2

_Benedict Baker_

_Journal Entry 2_

Upon entering the shack, I was met with a sight I was not ready for. The man I had come to know as ruthless, blood thirsty, unstoppable. The Trapper. He stood at the center-most point of the shack, with his blood-smeared arms crossed over his brawny chest, which did nothing to mask the fact that the blood not only coated his arms, but his overalls and mask as well. Covered from head to toe in life's essence, I could smell him from the doorway of the building; the man absolutely reeked of death and copper. I fought a gag, tried to plant my feet so I didn't have to go any closer, but the being that still held me by the wrist was adamant that I go in. "Come," the tall specter rattled, repeating the word like a mantra. Even with my heels dug into the floorboards, I was forced to cross the space that defined the difference between the deadly murderer and myself.

The Trapper's head barely moved at my approach. I caught the glint of his eyes and listened to the huff of his breath on his old mask, just as it seemed my breath would leave my lungs eternally. I was only a few feet away from him, easily within reaching distance, and his hands were definitely large enough that they could wrap around my throat and crush my windpipe. I didn't doubt my ability to talk him out of trying to slice my throat open, however I did doubt whether I could get away if I couldn't talk him out of death. I knew I must look ridiculous, mouth opening and closing like a suffocating goby, but I wasn't sure what to say. What could I say to such a large man who could so easily decide my fate in a heartbeat's breadth?

"Philip."

I didn't have to speak. At least, not yet. The Trapper could talk, too. He was intelligent, maybe holding back his belligerent nature for the entertainment of the other being. Philip. Was that the specter's name? It was so… normal. Not a name I expected to be attached to such a thing. No, not thing. Man. These beings before me were both men. At his name being called, the tall man tilted his head a few degrees, feigning innocence, though he knew what had upset his comrade. The evidence stood in my shoes.

"… The fuck is this thing doin' here?" Oh. The man had an accent, too. Rich, deep, reminding me of the streets of London. An Englishman, the epitome of class and gentlemanliness; how ironic to find him the source of so much death in this place. It didn't seem right. "You know their lot's for killin'."

"This one is different, Evan. Look at him!" Philip's hands fell upon my shoulders, shaking me lightly so that I caught the brooding brute's attention. I felt his eyes scan me first down to my muddied shoes, then back up to my pale face. At least, I imagined it was pale, as I wasn't at all comfortable in the presence of murderers, and I couldn't remember the last time the sun's heat could have a chance to bronze my skin. Who could be comfortable when those who shared the room with you had ended the lives of countless people before you? When the Trapper failed to say anything, Philip pressed on with another shake to my shoulders, "You can't tell me something isn't changing. The Overseer is planning something."

"The Overseer can kiss my bloody arse." Evan's growl rattled the walls of the shack. "Get that thing out."

"Evan, won't you listen to me?" Philip hissed, stepping out around me to intrude on the big man's personal space. I took a few steps back, giving myself ample enough room between the two should they get heated, but I was more curious to just watch how the two interacted. They were so different from each other, with such different personalities and attitudes. "I'm telling you something is changing. Don't you see that this one is different? You can't tell me that you don't see it. You do, and you're refusing to acknowledge it." His long finger jabbed into the flesh of Evan's broad chest, but the man didn't budge. The two of them were nose-to-nose with each other, far more occupied at making their points to one another to notice my quiet backsteps towards the doorframe.

"I am listening, and you're talkin' rubbish!" Evan's growl was much deeper than before, now locking his eyes onto where I had frozen in place. "Look at 'im! He's no less terrified of us than the others." The air was growing heavy with murderous intent and frustration. "I oughta put 'im out 'is misery."

"Evan, this one talks!" Philip's own agitation was growing, but he wasn't about to step in Evan's path. "The others, the shadows, they don't talk. They only scream. This one seems to have his wits about him. C'mon, stop thinking with that cleaver of yours and use your damned head."

"I am usin' my head." Though he didn't seem at all enthralled about the idea, I felt the danger subside by just a few degrees. But only just. "I wouldn't want to be stuck here in 'is shoes. Killin' him is the best kindness we can offer." What kind of kindness was death? Here in this place, chased by monsters who thirsted for blood, trapped under an endless night sky that would never turn to the grace of day, death would mean a release from this torturous world of anxiety, fear, and suffering. Death was an escape from this hell hole.

"He's not wrong," I found myself murmuring, casting a glance between Philip and Evan, who looked surprised to find that I could, indeed, talk. "This place isn't exactly inviting. An endless moon, being chased by, well, you guys and that monster in the cornfields-"

"That's Max." Evan huffed, only ruffled for a few moments, "He's a bit special, but believe me. We're all monsters 'ere."

I didn't argue. I didn't have a reason to argue, nor any proof to prove him otherwise. The only proof I had seen would only aid his argument; the death of the shadow people, Evan prowling around the grounds with those rusted bear traps in hand, maliciously swinging the weaponry he held to cleave through the throats and flesh of those who fell victim to him. Perhaps when they finally felt it was time to end my life, Evan would be quick and merciful.

"So, the Overseer has something planned?" Evan was the one to break the silence that had ensued. "What in God's name could the damned thing want now? Its already got us in this hellhole, what else is It going to do?"

"You said it was rubbish." Philip pouted, crossing his arms. This prompted a no-nonsense glare from Evan, which in turn made Philip's momentary irritation subside, "It's going to bring more." Philip finally answered, making an open-handed gesture towards me. "He is not our size, no, but he is smart like us. The Overseer is testing Its ability to bring others into this world for us."

"It's goin' to be doin' a helluva lot of work to keep that up," I was becoming accustomed to the thick, gruff baritone that made up Evan's voice in the short amount of time I'd heard it. He slowly lowered himself into a seated position, hunching forward with his elbows resting heavy on his knees. "We mow down the shadows by the dozens. Its going to need to spend a lot of effort bringing in more of their lot to kill. Even if they're smarter."

"Smarter, yes. Maybe make them harder to catch, give them advantages that you couldn't hope to think of," The words were out before I could catch them behind my lips. The gears were turning in my head, trying to make sense of this new piece of information. If whatever had brought us here, this Overseer, had decided it was time to bring in more foes like me, then it must have something planned for this place that I had begun to refer to as the Realm. "Toolboxes, maybe, to get the generators moving along faster. Or health kits to heal themselves if they get away from you." I heard the Trapper shuffle with an indignant grunt, but I had foolishly turned away from him with my fingers pressed to my chin. I was adrift in my contemplations, trying to piece together the meaning of my presence to these two strong individuals, and what my intelligence meant to the master of the land. "Maybe have them establish some sense of… altruism, a need to fight for survival and each other while they push objectives, something to get others of my ilk to participate in a favorable manner that benefits your Overseer."

"But the question still remains on survivor supply. From what I've seen, and what you've said, once the survivor is dead, they're dead." I turned back round to face Evan once more, unconscious of my error. "A lot of energy would be spent just to keep up with supply for you lot." I didn't see the monstrous thing lurking in the doorway as I continued to voice my thoughts aloud. "It would be spending more time and energy pulling in people who wouldn't exactly match the quota just to keep a constant supply for you lot to, well, murder. But what if…"

"What if what, boy?" I hadn't noticed I had trailed off into quiet muttering until Evan's warning tone brought me back to the shack.

"What if," I said again, "your Overseer had a way to keep the individuals from actually dying?"

"And how would that be?" Philip was picking up on my thought train.

How would that be? So far, this endless night and the shadows were beyond scientific reasoning. This whole Realm was beyond scientific reasoning, and nothing I could come up with could explain what was going on. People turned into nothing but wisps and hunted by bigger beings to appease some sort of Overseer that benefited in some way from the bloodshed. I couldn't wrap my head around it.

"Y'might want to move from the doorway."

I heard the suggestion, and the revving of a chainsaw, almost a second too late. I took two scrambled steps away from the door just as the malformed murderer from the corn fields rushed through with that accursed chainsaw high over his head. Just a few steps in, that chainsaw fell from its spot and the monster was grunting and moaning with hurried gesticulations. Evan's body rose from the floor, which made the newest visitor grunt and whine even more, desperate to say whatever it was he needed to say.

"Max, slow the fuck down, we can't understand you when you grovel like that." Evan's patience was growing short.

But the monster just moaned and threw his hammer on the ground, making very pointed motions with his long fingers back to where he had come from. Evan, resigning to a sigh, grabbed the vocal man and yanked him back out the door, towards where Max had been pointing. I was inclined to stay put, but Philip pressed his open palms to my shoulders and pushed so that I was forced to follow. Our little ragtag group of mishaps ventured through the trees, away from the lonesome shack, and back along the path I had taken away from the corn fields Max called home.

The trees grew sparse, and the sky yellowed with the harvest moon that hung low overhead. The stalks of corn swayed in the never-present breezes, and everything seemed normal, until I began to look closer. No shadows lurked against the brick walls, nor did they attempt to work on any of the generators that rest between the rows or against the hay bales. Where were they?

And then I saw the hooks. Huge, wooden structures that were spaced here and there just as much as the generators were. The metal of the hook itself was rusted, but sharp, the type used to hang meats in butcher shops or in meat plants. I hadn't seen these when I was here earlier, nor had I seen them anywhere else in the Realm. I laid a hand on one of the beams, thumbing the rusted bolts that held the hook together, then pushed to see just how much weight it could handle. To my surprise, the item didn't budge in the slightest.

"The hell are these things?" Evan's eyes landed on the item I was inspecting, mirroring my confusion.

"Haven't you two noticed that the shadows aren't here either?" Philip had noticed my previous wonderings.

Max, however, didn't care about either of their inquiries. He was yanking on Evan's arm, still insistently pointing towards where the large red barn loomed in the distance. The hulking man brushed him off, choosing to instead take a few whacks at the hook with his meat cleaver; no damage was done to either piece. Evan's curious growl was interrupted by Max's insistent moan, to which he finally turned, "_What, _Max?"

"Max, what has got you so bothered?" Now the Wraith was beginning to get annoyed. He placed his hands on his hips, watching the malformed man gesticulate and grunt evermore towards the barn. "I swear, if there's nothing in that barn…"

"Has he acted like this before?" I cast a glance to my side to ask Philip, the more friendly of the two killers that could talk. "Be, ah, vocal and all."

"Sometimes. Though we don't really understand him much." Philip's response seemed that of someone who really could care less about the subject. "We humor him, if we can."

As it turns out, Max had every reason to throw a fit over something within the barn. Haybales had been moved and shifted, and a whole row of what used to be stalls was now nothing but empty space… and a stairwell that led underneath the barn. The walls were made of cinderblocks and wood, dusted in an eerie red light that glowed from within the ground itself. I swallowed, taking one step down, then another, feeling the temperature drop with every footfall. I happened to look back at my group, who lingered at the top as though they, too, were nervous of the change, but they weren't showing it. Philip shared a glance with Evan, before he began the descent into the pits of the barn. Evan, either not wanting to appear the most cowardly or having finally decided investigating was worth his time, followed suit and brushed past me so that he may be the first to inspect the new addition to the world.

The stairs led down to a room with walls slatted by wooden beams and mossy stones. That same light filled this space, illuminating the lockers that were positioned by the stairs and in the very back of the room and the stone floor below our feet. But I looked closer, and the floor wasn't red from the lights above; blood, fresh and old alike, crusted and pooled at our feet and around the main fixture of the basement. A solid metal rod, thick and bound with iron cords, supported four meat hooks not unlike those found outside. On them, it appeared as though something had been hung on them, and recently, for they dripped with crimson life essence.

"The hell is this place?" Evan's voice rumbled against the walls, and I felt it to my very core. He approached the hooks, extending a hand to touch wet metal like he had before.

"It… looks like a sacrificial room." It was horrifying to think of. Sacrifices. Is that what the Overseer wanted? Is that how It fed itself and kept the world around us thriving? And if It had installed this basement onto one of its plains of existence, then maybe the same basement was reflected in the dark woods and the broken-down scrap yard. And if there were, in fact, four hooks in this sacrificial rooms, then the singular hooks spaced amongst the trees and corn must be for the same reason as these hooks. "I guess your Overseer wants you to use these."

_You're quite the inquisitive one, aren't you?_

"What was that?" I turned to the others, who were each looking up towards the ceiling and around the basement. Max, not wanting to step too far in, was huddled on the stairs with his arms wrapped around himself. Did the others not hear that voice?

_No, they do not hear me. I am only speaking to you._

Who are you? And what do you want from me? I looked around the room again, half expecting to see some being slinking in the corners, but all I found was a yellow wooden chest behind a thin wall. No, nothing else was here. I had to be going crazy if I was hearing voices, right? I must have spent too long in this world.

_You're not crazy. Not yet. And that is good, because I need you. I cannot work with incompetence._

"What're you looking at?" Evan's voice pulled me out of my head and back to the damp of the room. He was giving me a suspicious look, his massive hand squeezing the hilt of his blade. Oh, had I been staring at him? I turned my gaze away, focusing instead on the wooden chest. I thought that'd be all, but a rough hand wrapped around the back of my neck, forcing me to look back into his face. The eyes behind his mask narrowed, looking, _really _looking at me as though he may find something he wasn't expecting.

Then he let go with great haste and backpedaled. Was he scared? No. Not scared. Angry. And he was reeling himself in so that he didn't end my life immediately, though I could see that it was a huge struggle for him. But why?

_I won't let him kill you yet. _

And why not?

_I told you. I need you. _

But why do you need me? And what are you?

Silence ensued for a long moment, and I feared that whatever had spoken to me had left. But judging by the space the other beasts were giving me, whatever had invaded my mind was still present. Philip would not meet my eye, keeping his whitened gaze fixated on the bloody floor. On the contrary, Evan wouldn't take his eyes off me, flexing his hand around the blade as though gauging how hard he should make his next swing. Would he swing at me? Or was he angry at whatever invaded my mind? And how did they know it was here?

Maybe they had a different connection to this thing. Something that they knew that I didn't, and they weren't sure if they could tell me. Or maybe whatever it was that had decided to reach out to me was, in fact, the Overseer. It would make sense that the voice in my head would belong to the creator of this pocket dimension, though it wouldn't explain how that came to be.

A low chuckle pervaded my senses. My hair stood on end, and I felt an icy touch creep over my skin. It felt as though I had been plunged into the coldest depths of the ocean, frozen into place by frost and wind. My heart was pounding in my ribs, beating for release, pumping chilly adrenaline through my trembling limbs. I was stuck. I could run from here, but where would I go? Or I could stay and meet my fate. Either way, death awaited. Sweet, sweet death. An escape from this voice, from the murderers in the room, and from this nowhere pocket world that I somehow found myself in.

_You foolish man… I am the Entity. And that death you wish for won't come. _

What?

_I told you, I won't let them kill you yet. But even when their blades slit your throat, and feed me with your blood… My dear Benedict… _

Another dark chuckle rung off the ceiling, and even the others could hear it this time. A dark, oozing mist leaked from the slats of the basement room, slithering down the wood and pooling upon the stone floor. It filled the room, coating the floor, sparking and igniting with flickers of red ember as the fog meshed and collided in on itself under our feet. Then, slowly, it collected in the middle and rose up the central pole, before extending towards where I stood. I saw an antlered deer skull peering out, shining rubies illuminated in the eye sockets, and its maw opened wide towards me-

I was inside of it. Tumbling, falling, lost in an icy cold void of embers and shadow. I turned left, right, looked up and down, fought to grab onto something to stop my fall but only air and nothingness was within reach. Laughter exploded around me in tumultuous claps of thunder, lighting the fog in flashes of crimson. Those same red rubies of the skull shone through, materializing mere inches from my face. It leaned closer, closer, the cold bone grazing past my ear as a single breath hissed through its teeth:

_Death is not an escape._


	3. Chapter 3

_Benedict Baker_

_Journal Entry 3_

The Entity. An Ancient from the old times and a frequenter of the other world, a harbinger of chaos and disharmony amongst populations and peoples. At least, that's what It told me It was. For all I knew, It could be some demonic presence that thrived on the sufferings of others, and I was yet another victim for It to feed off of. But whatever this harbinger wanted from me was out of my grasp, for the time being, as It didn't elaborate any more into Its coming into existence but rather preferred to go into the Realm itself.

The bare gist of this place was that the Realm was a feeding ground. It searched countless realities and timelines, from the ancient times to the far future, and inserted Itself to disrupt the flow so that It may separate and isolate Its quarry into a favorable position for easier obtainment. So far, It had only managed to capture a few; the Killers, as the Entity called them, and two others. These two were myself and another man by the name of Vigo, who I had yet to meet or find in this place, but supposedly he was still alive somewhere in the fog. However, we weren't the meal, but rather the means to it. The Killers were not to kill me or Vigo, but rather learn our behaviors, and begin to understand that their shadow quarries would soon be living, thinking beings.

Which meant that the wisps had never been alive at all. The wisps existed only to serve as training for the bigger prey.

As I swirled in that darkness with that glacial monstrosity, It showed me just what It did as an Overseer. In the lapses of the fog and bristling red static, I could see little glimpses of people and places not within the Realm. A boy, just barely a man by the way he held himself, in a mussy tie behind a counter at a local pizza joint, speaking with what must be a manager before following him off into the nearby woods. A girl, taking a jog around her neighborhood with her hair tied tightly into twin pigtails, her feet carrying her towards an assortment of tall, foreboding trees. Another boy, curled up under a canopy of trees with just a jacket to keep him warm while he shivered in what must be the late autumn cold. Upon closer look, I could see the growing puddle of rainwater collecting underneath of his soaked clothing, and gathered that it must be raining where he is. And lastly, a girl huddled in the shrubbery of a local park as she analyzes the flora, practically undetectable if not for her vibrant green t-shirt. I watched her go from shrub to shrub, picking up little pieces here and there to hold them up and inspect, but the further she went into the woods the harder she became to detect, until she was out of sight.

"Are these your next picks?" I had asked, fixated on the pools of imagery that yawed before me like great pits. The Entity's skulled head tilted to one side, then turned away from me as it honed-in on the boy curled up in the grass. "Or are these your current works-in-progress?" The boy in the image had dark, unruly hair and a sour expression that only came with being pissed at the world. I knew the expression well; I had once worn that same face, in a time long before the Realm. But the boy's expression changed once his eyes closed, slack as sleep eased into his chilled limbs.

I watched his last breath slip past his lips.

_You see, I cannot simply pull them while they still live. _

The voice still sent shivers down my spine. Hollow, yet full of voices, a churning volume of sirens and screams that spun in on itself. The Entity touched the nose of Its skull to the image, and the colors collapsed into a shroud of darkness. The boy was gone, possibly forever, from the world he had once known. I knew the others would meet a similar fate, sucked into the mist and shadows beyond their reach with no opportunity to retrace their steps.

_So, I insert myself into their lives. Misery, mistrust, abandonment. I sow the emotions and bitterness, and, well… You humans are so predictable. You feed right into it. A girl who gives up her passion to care for the woman who raised her, a boy in a dead-end job left behind to be the laughingstock of the town… I make it so they have nothing left, and then I offer my safe harbor to them. My shadows numb their hurt, for a short while. Just long enough for them to adjust._

"And when they learn where they are? What's happened to them?" I pressed, though I already knew the answer.

_It will be too late by then._

One by one, the remaining images collapsed into particles of dust and ruby droplets, swirling into one fusion of crimson that the Entity promptly swallowed. I frowned, pressing the heel of my palm into my brow as I turned the weight of information over in my head. The Entity, the Overseer, had ruined the lives of these four lost souls so that It may pull them into Its embrace. How long had It spent doing this? And how long had I already been in this nightmare?

_I will take you to their corner. They shall be here soon._

"Thank you." My mouth felt dry. What could I say to them that could make this situation better? Sorry you're dead, but now you have a second life away from the distress of your past life? I didn't know the first thing about these kids and now I had to greet them after their end. I could offer them solace, condolences, but empty words would do them no good. In the end, I never could decide if I should be empathetic, or if I should say anything at all regarding their ends in the living world.

The world fell out from under me, and I felt my stomach drop and rise as I was tossed around empty space. The fog swirled and collected around me, then dispersed over the dusty earth that I now stood upon. I could hear the trees creaking and groaning with the never-present wind that pushed and battered against the boughs and branches. I extended a hand to catch a leaf that fell from above, watching the oak debris brush past my palm to tumble to the ground instead. And there, just below my feet and barely out of sight, she was crouched in a tall patch of grass with her arms wrapped tightly around her. Her green t-shirt had been replaced with a fashionable leather jacket that had already seen its days with grime and dirt. Her spectacled face was downcast, but I could hear the sniffles that bubbled and burst from her in short little gasps.

The girl from the park. I knelt slowly, not wanting to startle her any more than how terrified she must already be. She turned her head towards me, catching me with her dark, bloodshot eyes, but said nothing. Can she see me? I offered my warmest smile to her, about to offer a hello, but she chose to look down at her boots instead, sinking her face into her knees so that I couldn't see her expression.

_She was a loner in her school and growing up. Even her mother worried that she wasn't like the normal kids. Don't be surprised if she doesn't speak up. _

"What's your name?" I pushed the Entity's hollowed voice from my head and set my focus on her. If I could get her to talk, maybe I can get a bit more intel on what type of people the Entity looked for… or how It broke them into something more desirable. "Mine is Benedict. Can you tell me yours?"

Silence.

"Could you tell me something about yourself?" I tried again, leaning towards her to try a glance at her face.

But still, nothing.

_I warned you._

Oh, shut up.

I sat in the quiet beside her, leaning back off my knees so I could instead sit comfortably and wait for an opportunity to try again. We sat like that for a while, side by side, neither of us speaking or moving aside from her sniffles and muted sobs. I never was good at consolation, so what should I do in this kind of situation?

_The others have arrived. They're waiting nearby._

I watched a puff of fog rise from the dust and swirl past my feet, headed off in a singular direction. I needed to get this girl moving, so that they can be united. I only hoped they could get along, for they would be each other's biggest allies in this darkened wood. I turned back to the girl in question, who still hadn't budged from her spot, and sighed, "Look, I know this place is new and scary. But we need to get moving. The others are waiting for you."

"No, they're not." The smallest, tiniest whisper sniveled past her wet lips.

"They are. I came out here to fetch you, now let's go." I wanted to feel sorry for her. But at the same time, I was partially annoyed with her behavior. I can understand that she's found herself in a new, strange, dangerous place on her own, and I could see that she wasn't handling it well. She was shutting down, locking herself into one spot without even attempting to take a look around. She wasn't willing to try, and I needed to make her. My hand wrapped around her arm, and we stood together with little to no fuss from her. Silently, she stumbled beside me as I pulled rather than guided her where the fog had slithered off to.

The trees were thick, tall, monstrous wooden beings that sheltered the ground from the night sky and its stars. Or maybe it was the other way around, and it was sparing the moon the tragedies that happen beneath its foliage. I heard the screaming entirely too late, having just walked into the open of a clearing when I saw the bloodshed before me.

It was Evan, Max, and Philip, caught amidst the new beings that had been pulled into the Realm. The pig-tailed girl was baring her fists, much to my surprise, astride the boy I had seen draw his last breath in the woods. The lad in the tie, however, was crouched with his head in his hands behind them, muttering nonsense to make himself feel better, presumably. There was blood dripping from his temple and lacerations in his shoulders, which I could only assume meant that he had been the one screaming. Evan, the brute, had his cleaver in hand with an iron grasp around the hilt and bloodlust burning in his eyes. Philip seemed out of place, attempting to halt the man twice his weight, and Max stood back and watched from a distance, no doubt perturbed by the noise.

The girl I had been dragging along finally got it in her to pull away from me in favor of retreating back to the woods from where we had come, but I kept my hold firm as I strode even further towards the flock of misfits, "Will you lot quit that screaming? Evan, put it down, Christ…" The pig-tailed girl chanced a look at me, but didn't budge, and neither did Evan. "Did you hear me? Put. The cleaver. _Down._"

Either my tone finally held enough resonance to get through, or I had some powerful persuader intervene, but Evan finally lowered his blade. Philip exchanged a long, curious look with me, then gestured towards the others in search of an explanation. Max, too, seemed to want answers, having finally come to stand beside Evan with a solid grip on the back of his overalls. The "others," realizing the danger has passed now that I've arrived, lowered their fists but kept them at the ready, though the boy with the tie still squatted behind the other two in less-than-manly fashion.

"What's this nonsense, then?" Evan growled, casting a side-eye my way. "The fuck are these kids doin' here?"

"We don't _want _to be here, asshat." The pig-tailed girl's snarl was almost as fearsome as Evan's. Almost. She crossed her arms over her chest and tapped her foot, a gesture I would later learn was caused by nerves. "But I'd like to know why we're here too. I need to get back home."

"Psh, at least you have a home." The boy in the green jacket muttered, and I felt an internal eyeroll.

I finally let go of the girl and pushed her lightly towards the others, who greedily reached hands out to wrap her into their fold. Now that my hands were free, I placed one on my hip and pinched the bridge of my nose with the other. How to explain this? What do I say? I could feel Evan's frustration emanating off of his bulk, which in turn was beginning to irritate me. Why the hell did I get stuck doing this?

"… You're not going home." My exasperated grumble won startled looks from the girl and the lad with the tie. "So, forget about home. This is your home now, and that's that." I saw the argument rise in the hotheaded spirit, and I raised a hand, "No, I can't tell you how I know you're not going home. Let's just say that you've been selected for this. Your destiny, per se, as screwed up as this fate is."

"Selected? For what?" This time, it was the quieter, dark skinned girl, which surprised me. She was looking right at me, seemingly comforted by the embrace of the others around her, though I wondered how she would fare when separated out in the woods of the Estate.

"Well… That's a bit more of a complicated explanation." I could feel my heartbeat in my temples, the beginning of a headache. My ears were ringing, I thought I heard the whisper of… something. Wind, maybe, but so far there had been none. "But for now, how about we introduce ourselves? I'll start. I'm Benedict Baker."

"Don't change the damned subject." I was beginning to get annoyed with this brat. I glared into her gaunt face, but she pressed on, "The hell do you mean we're not going home? I have to go back and take care of my mother! I can't be stuck here, I have to get home!"

"We're just as stuck as you are," Evan grumbled, "Now answer. What's your name?"

"… Meg Thomas." The pig-tailed girl muttered, her nose scrunched with contempt.

"Jake Park." The kid in the green jacket raised his hand, then receded back into his quiet watchfulness.

"Dwight Fairfield."

"… Claudette Morel."

"Good, good. You lot are… survivors." I wouldn't typically use that word to describe one in this situation. They reminded me more of trapped, tortured souls. But the word came forth unbidden from the very air, and I couldn't come up with an argument not to use it. "And… these are the Killers." I held out a hand towards Evan and the other two, but couldn't utter their names. "The Trapper, the Wraith, and the Hillbilly." This won a strange look from the three of them, but I would have to deal with explanations.

"So, you're telling me we need to, what, survive against these… things?" Meg shot a glare at Evan, "Doing what? Why in the hell do we need to?"

"Because you will die. Over, and over, and over." Their faces fell, paled, and I could practically see their stomachs churning with unease. "If you live, you do it again. If you die, you do it again."

"What do you mean, if we die, we do it again? We'll be dead, you ass." Meg's growl was rich. I felt an unearthly chuckle bubbling up in my chest, enflamed by their despair, and I half wondered why I felt so inclined to be the one to tell them of their demise.

"You naïve girl," A grin split across my face, "Death is not an escape."


	4. Chapter 4

_Benedict Baker _

_Journal Entry 4_

The newest members of the Realm were settling in better than expected. Not long after they had arrived, the Entity had begun something new, something that It referred to as "Trials." The goal for the newest members was to finish repairing the generators that were seen around the locales, tucked away against trees and dilapidated structures, and open the gates that I had once opened before. But in their way were the killers, whose job it was to prevent them from doing these objectives.

I had the opportunity to oversee these Trials, as per the Entity's request. It goaded me onto the ledge of the brick walls and prompted that I stay up high as not to be sucked into Its bloodletting game. The very first Trial happened to be in what the Entity called Autohaven Wreckers. It was a large place, lit with the yellow light of a full harvest moon above the crumpled remains of trucks and cars. A compactor sat in one far corner, in sight of a shack similar to where I had met with the killers earlier. Opposite to this corner, a run-down gas station loomed close to one of the exit gates, its neon light flickering in the yellow-night sky. From my current vantage, aside the second exit gate, I could see half of the generators that spotted the map.

Jake dashed into my view, stepping forth from behind a tall wall of smashed cars. Keeping up with him was Dwight and Meg, who I assumed were nagging each other judging by the looks on their faces. They piled onto one of the generators, digging their hands into it with reckless abandon, but where was the fourth? Claudette must be off on another generator, surely, but she was safe. The shimmering silhouette of a tall being glided closer to them, silent as a shadow, before embers traveled up its spindly legs and revealed the Wraith in his full terror. Meg was quick to sprint away with a burst of speed, whereas Jake shouldered the blow after Dwight ducked in front of him. He didn't utter a sound, just stumbled away while the Wraith's attention shifted to Dwight.

This was a mess. I watched as the Wraith hunted down Dwight, who no longer had an ally to duck behind, and lifted him onto one of the many meat hooks could be seen around every corner. Jake had opted to bite his tongue and work on a generator through the pain without so much as an utterance. Meg was running around aimlessly, and Claudette was still nowhere to be-

Wait.

Claudette was pulling Dwight from the hook and forcing him to his knees, using her small hands to rub away the blood and patch up what she could of his wound. This act of altruism was surprising, considering Dwight had been nothing but a dead-weight. In the time it took Claudette to get Dwight back on his feet, Jake's generator was up and running, and Meg was now lapping the Wraith around a series of pallets out front of the gas station. This went on for a long while; Dwight and Claudette made quick work as a team through another generator as Jake went through a third, until Meg eventually collapsed at the mercy of the Wraith's sickle. She was treated the same way Dwight was, lifted carelessly as though she were a sack of flour and dropped onto another meat hook. Her scream echoed off of the aluminum and metals of the car, louder than the ding of the generators as Dwight and Jake both finished theirs. Two generators left to go, and all four of them still alive. This was going poorly in the Wraith's favor, but very well in the survivors'. Though if I recall, the Wraith didn't want to be in this place to begin with, so maybe he was doing this to appease the higher power.

Once again, Claudette came rushing to the rescue, but the Wraith was waiting this time. He grabbed Claudette by the back of her shirt and pulled her away from Meg, just before she could summon the energy to pull her off. Now they were both on hooks, within sight of each other, and the Wraith was circling in search of his next victim. Jake was crouched close by, his sights set on Meg, but not even his iron will could spare him from the Wraith. The specter materialized with the ring of a bell and smashed his weapon against the back of Jake's head, laying out the boy in the tall grass and staining the dirt crimson. All that was left was Dwight, who was toiling away at another generator.

"You fucking dumb ass…" I couldn't help but grumble, for once peeved that it wasn't myself down there. I wanted to holler and yell at him to go help his team, but why should I care anyway? It wasn't my life, and I wasn't fighting for it either. It was them, and if he wanted to be the last alive and leave his team to die, then that was on him.

Jake was hung upon another hook, just as the Entity's claws materialized around Meg and Claudette's struggling bodies. I could see his eyes, following the Wraith's spectral silhouette as it glided away into the distance. His arms reached up, his gloved hands gripped tight onto the hook, and he struggled with all his might to wriggle himself free. This only encourage the Entity's intervention sooner, wrapping Its claws around his form as he made one last attempt at freedom-

The boy leapt off the hook and beelined for Meg, yanking her off of the meat hook just as the Wraith rounded the corner once more. But he sat back a bit, waiting, watching, giving them the opportunity to free Claudette as well before she could succumb to the Entity's desperation, before he lurched away in search of Dwight, who had completed the generator he had been so focused on. This gave the other three enough time to patch each other up and go in search of their own generator.

I didn't need to look to know that Dwight had been found. His incessant, shrill shrieks filled the skies as he was first bashed, then downed in two short swings. When I did look, it appeared that he hadn't been able to run all that far when he had been found. So up on the hook he went, screaming and crying blasphemies and curses at the tree-like specter, who simply walked away shaking his head.

The other three managed to get their generator up and running. With all of the generators done, they could finally run and power up the exit gates. Dwight was fighting off the Entity's claws, frantically searching for an inkling of hope that his team was coming for him. And it had looked like they were, but they were all more interested in the exit gate that was behind him. Meg yanked the lever down, Claudette crouched in the nearby shrubbery, and Jake merely watched Dwight struggle feebly until the gate was open. He promptly flipped the boy the bird and sulked through the open sheet metal, running into the trees beyond with Meg and Claudette close on his heels.

"You assholes!" Dwight screamed after them, frustrated tears in his eyes. "You couldn't come get me? After all the work I did?!"

"I honestly see it as justice served." I couldn't help but grumble, catching his attention for the first time. "When all three of them were up on those hooks, what were you doing?"

"A generator-"

"Exactly." I smiled, though there was no hint of compassion nor mirth. Dwight grimaced as the talons inched closer to piercing through him, as I pushed, "You did a generator, while you comrades were strung up on meat hooks like roadkill. And now they've left you to die, as you did to them. You'll think better next time, won't you?" The boy couldn't put in another word; he lost his battle to the Entity, his whole body falling limp whilst the hungering limbs carried away their meal.

.

.

.

They ran from that first Trial into the next, from the wreckage of cars to the open fields of withering crops. Jake rolled his eyes as he wandered from his starting place to a large red barn in the corner, whereas Meg and Claudette found each other in the corn stalks to begin work on a generator there. Dwight, who had been dropped into the broken down shack after his "death," merely cowered in the middle with his head in the guts of the generator there, whispering over and over, "This is not happening, this is not happening… this can't be happening, this is _not happening_."

But it was happening. And it would keep happening. Each Trial was the same. Generator repair, running from whichever killer happened to be there for the Trial, and either death or escape. Not once had Dwight escaped yet, lacking the necessary altruism to deem him worthy of being saved. Claudette had proven that she was excellent at hiding and healing but was lacking on the running department. Jake could sabotage and was always hesitant to leave someone behind, unless it was Dwight. As for Meg, she was reveling in being able to run as much as she wanted without too much hinderance, and the killers seemed to enjoy chasing her down versus having the wisps of people who essentially waited for death. This "game" the Entity had created was small and insignificant, but it was working to serve its purpose at bloodshed.

It wasn't long before the Entity found Itself with too much power. It had gorged Itself, swollen with the blood it had absorbed, and was now prowling the different dimensions It had once shown me when I had first arrived. In the meantime, I was in charge of the survivors, who were granted a rest period after having gone in and out of a consecutive twenty-four rounds.

Their campsite was small, only decorated with a few logs that had been toppled over as means for seating, circled around a dwindling, heat-less campfire. Claudette was perched atop one of the logs with her arms looped around her legs, Jake seated nearby, and Meg paced the tree line with her eyes intent on the shadows. Already, each and every one of the survivors looked gaunt, exhausted, with dark circles and dull eyes. Dirt coated their skin, stained their clothes, and only added to the misery the four of them had brewing amongst them.

Of course, some were handling it better than others.

"This has to be some fucked up dream, right?" Dwight was muttering, his gnawed fingers at the mercy of his chattering teeth. He was stood with his back pressed to one of the many oaks that ringed the campsite, his nervous eyes darting across his other comrades. "We're all just asleep, right?"

"Hey numb nuts, you're not asleep," Jake's irritated growl surprised me with just how deep his voice could go under the influence of exhaustion and impending rage. "And this is damn sure happening, whether you want it to or not. So get your selfish head out of your ass and maybe help us next Trial."

"I have been helping!" Dwight retaliated with his own less fearsome grumble. "If you guys wouldn't keep getting caught, maybe you wouldn't end up on those things!"

"It's part of the god-damned Trial, you fucking idiot." Jake was quickly losing patience. The tension was growing heavy, and I knew a brawl would break out between the two if this wasn't sorted quickly. Though I had no reason to stop such a thing from happening, since these two clearly had different ideas on how the games should go. "You do the generators, you run for your fucking life, and you escape to do it again. Don't you get it?"

"Will you two stop?" Meg's voice cut between them, no less angry than either of the two young men, if they could be called that.

"Yeah, you run for your fucking life, but _not getting caught _seems to be a problem!" Dwight spoke over Meg's plea, storming his way over to Jake who was now rising to his feet. Both of their chests were puffed, glares hard set on one another. The shorter of the two, Dwight, jabbed his finger hard against Jake's chest, "Maybe when you can manage that, then _maybe _I'll think about coming to get you."

"Boys, come on-" Meg's small form nimbly pushed between the two heated figures, her palms flat against either chest. "We need to be a team! This is not it, and if you don't quit your antics, we're never going to be one!"

"I don't want to be on a team with this jackass!" Dwight hissed, once more pushing on Jake, "And I'll be damned if I die because this dipshit did something stupid-"

Ah, the crack of bone hitting bone. No other sound quite like it. Jake's knuckles connected square with Dwight's jaw, knocking him to the ground with one hard punch. Claudette's head picked up as she finally noticed what was going on, Meg rushing to get out of the way before the boys were in full-blown brawl mode. All I could do was shake my head and tune them out, knowing they'd eventually tire themselves out.

_Benedict._

Of course, a moment of peace was yet to be had in this place. "… yes, my Entity?"

_Go to the forest's edge. You have a new guest._

Oh? A new guest was curious. I turned my attention to the trees and shadows, squinting at the movement I could just barely see there. I could still hear the boys scuffling in the dead grass, but new was the sound of footsteps behind me, light in weight and careful in approach. Claudette had moved from her seat out of curiosity, having perhaps noticed what was beyond the camp's border. With a roll of my eyes, I stepped into the shrubbery, not bothering to look back to see if she still followed or not.

It didn't take too long of a walk to notice what all the Entity had done. Another brick wall stood in front of me, but not one I had seen before. Atop the structure were rusted iron fences, only a few inches tall but it suggested that whatever was inside should not be let out. I wandered the perimeter of the wall for a while, trying to find a stone or box or a tree that could serve as a means to get in, until the tall steel beams of the exit gate could be seen in the distance. Beyond the gates, even more brick structures dotted the decrepit yard of an old building, sheltering flaming barrels and broken generators from the shrill, howling wind. The building that stood in the middle of the yard was dingy, crumbling, with windows broken and lights hanging from their installments. The top of the building itself was missing, blackened and ashy beams still glimmering faintly with traces of the flames that must have claimed the rest of the building. Reaching out to touch the old walls, I could feel a combination of lichens and ash still settled on the old stones.

I could hear someone breathing from within the building. Not the easy breathing of someone at rest, but the wheezing, gasping sound of someone sick and struggling. I located an entry, a window vault, and climbed through to get closer to the maker of the noise. Inside the building, there was nothing but dust and debris, blocking off doorways that led to nothing. Up the stairs, even more debris laid in the hallway that encompassed a circular room. A generator sat inside, across from a wooden chest that looked too new to have been here when this place existed. The piles of metal, stone, and cloth suggested that this had been a ward, meant for patients both sound of mind and not. But still, I could not locate the one who wheezed, neither upstairs or down on the main floor.

Though wandering around, I found something I had missed. A familiar set of stairs led downstairs into the bowels of the building, humming with doom and glowing with the Entity's ravenous red light. I crept below, careful to keep my steps light, with the hope that whoever was down here wouldn't attack right away. I rounded the corner, peeking my head around.

She stood… no, she _hovered _a few inches above the ground, her shoes barely scraping the cold, bloody concrete. She was there with her back to me, dressed in an old nurse-maid's uniform, clutching a bone saw in her right hand with a tight, white knuckled grip. Her left hand glimmered with embers and energy, suggesting the Entity's involvement. What I couldn't get past was her head; she wore a sack over her head, tight, bandaged across the eyes, nose, and throat to keep the item in place. So how could she see? It was clear that she was examining the quad of hooks that had so suddenly appeared in her building, curiosity plain in how she held her shoulders. She reached out to touch the hook with a glowing finger, caressing the metal as though it had the capability to bite.

The step below me creaked as my weight shifted. Her head snapped in my direction, the depressions in the mask glowing a faint red where eyes should be. She saw me, and she felt threatened. I held up my hands, level with my eyes, "Hey, I'm not here to mess with you. Well, I am, but not to hurt you." The light in her eyes faded, suggesting she was listening. "My name is Benedict. I'm here to welcome you."

"Welcome me?" Her voice was quiet, incredulous, vicious spite bubbling on her tongues with every word. "What do you mean, welcome me? I want to go home, and this is not it. Tell your higher power I want no part in this."

"As much as I would love to send you and the other seven nuisances home, I can't." Ah, she was another one of the feisty ones. I pinched the bridge of my nose, taking a deep breath to keep the irritation out of my voice, "Look, you're in the Entity's Realm now. You can either stay here, or see who and what else is out here." She tilted her head to the side, pressing me to continue, "The others. You're not alone out here, did you think you were? Look, the name of the game is kill the little shits and you'll do fine."

"Wait, wait, back up. _Kill them_?" She looked taken aback. "Why would I kill them?"

"Because you have nothing else better to do." I groaned. Well, at least it was just a new killer-

"Sally, are you down here?"

Ah, fuck.

A new set of footsteps rushed down the stairs, and another girl joined us in the basement. Her reddish pink flannel shirt looked torn and tattered, well-worn through cold winters, and her torn black jeans suggested that they weren't torn because she had tumbled through a thorn bush. Her hair under her grey beanie looked greasy, so maybe it had been a while since she showered before the Entity sucked her in. The girl narrowed her eyes at me, before turning her attention to the woman, Sally, "I didn't see anyone else out there, or any food. I don't recognize anything out there, actually… We're in the middle of the woods."

"Middle of the woods? Impossible, there should've been a road." Sally glided past me to ascend the stairs, leaving me in her wake. "Are you sure? You checked the east gate?"

"I'm sure!" The girl raced up to follow, which left me no other choice but to tag along. Clearly, they needed more of an explanation, but they were refusing to hear me. "It's just a big brick wall and these doors that're made out of sheet metal."

The two of them left the building and went off towards one of the structures, the one I hadn't come in from. We passed elegant, wrought iron pillars that brandished their own meat hooks, as well as several more generators and tumbled brick walls. The whole walk, the older woman just cast long, thoughtful looks at her surroundings and what had become of her workplace. But to be truthful, was she lamenting the downfall of the building or that she was still stuck in this place? The Entity was careful in how It selected Its newest pets, so there must have been a reason It chose this woman as Its next reaper.

The younger girl darted ahead, gesturing to the door with a narrowed glare, but her words weren't pointed at Sally, "What's the meaning of this?" Ah, now they were acknowledging me. Lovely. I crossed my arms over my chest, inspected the gate in all its tall, unholy glory, then looked around the landscape for a long, quiet moment, until her voice cut across, "What do you know? And how in the fuck did you get here?"

"Ah, now you want me to inform you lot, when that's what I came here to do?" I let a smile split my face. "Well, I'll give you the rundown. _Nea Karlsson_," The Entity's presence slipped onto my tongue, giving me the name of the young girl, "Your job is to work on these pieces of shit." My open-handed palm gestured to a nearby generator. The girl scowled and slowly prowled to the item in question. "Once you get them up and running, then you can open that gate and join your friends at the camp, then wait for the next Trial."

"And what happens if I don't do the generators?" Nea growled, raising a foot to kick the rusted machine.

"That's where your friend Sally Smithson comes in," At her name, the older woman recoiled. "The Nurse, as you'll come to know her by, is charged with killing you and keeping you from opening those gates. So unless you want to die, I suggest you do the generators."

"But what if I don't want to kill her?" Sally's voice wheezed from her chest. She had positioned herself between me and Nea, with a tight hold on that old bone saw. Curious, how someone of her presumed nature was suddenly so keen on protecting someone who I wasn't sure deserved protecting. Why wouldn't she want to kill this newfound survivor? The killers were supposed to want nothing but bloodshed, but maybe since she was a nurse, things were different. The Nurse's tale was one I was finding myself eager to learn. "What if I don't want to participate in this game of yours?"

Now that was a question I didn't have an answer to. I shrugged my shoulders lightly, pursing my lips whilst turning my eyes skywards, "Not quite sure what to tell you there. You're not bloodthirsty, like the other three?" The Nurse made no reaction, or at least I don't think she did. Hard to tell with that damned sack over her head. "You don't want to kill? Surely you've killed before?"

"That has nothing to do with this," She snapped. Touchy subject, murder was. "I will not kill for you, or your higher power. Count me out."

Be that way, then… The Entity will have you sorted out soon, Sally Smithson.


	5. Chapter 5

_Benedict Baker_

_Journal Entry 5_

Once again, it was time for a Trial. The Entity's enthusiasm for this new playground was palpable, as the Trials had been placed at Crotus Prenn Asylum's Disturbed Ward for what must be the fourth time. The first three times saw the Trapper, the Wraith, and the Hillbilly each getting their turn on the map, learning its layout and different structures, where hooks could be found and where the sacrificial basement could be placed. The Wraith and the Trapper had a good deal of success navigating the decrepit building, finding spots they could leap out and surprise survivors or hide traps in the long grass. The Hillbilly, however, was noticeably struggling to find his way through the building, whimpering once or twice when he found himself stuck in the asylum roundabout. I figured given enough time, he'd be able to come to grips with this new terrain and figure his way around it.

In these three previous Trials, Nea had been in each and every one of them back to back. She's had her foot snagged in at least five bear traps, been bashed in the back of the skull with the Wraith's club even more times than that, yet miraculously she had avoided the Hillbilly's chainsaw throughout that third Trial. Perhaps that ability of hers to make a balanced landing had proved useful against poor Max, who couldn't seem to handle the ups and downs of the building as well as she could. Though, I wasn't sure if I had seen right, but I thought I had seen Nea pointing Max the way out of the asylum, after what must have been his third turn through the building. As for getting along with her teammates, her and Jake seemed to hit it off pretty well, so it was no surprise that she had no patience for Dwight's "leadership" antics. Another lone wolf in the pack, with an unworthy Alpha. Meg seemed alright with Nea, and as to be expected, Claudette once again went off on her own, so it was hard to say how well she worked with Nea.

In this particular Trial, Dwight was sitting out while the other four perused the landscape. The Entity had made it quite clear it only wanted four survivors in at a time, as not to overwhelm our fearsome predators nor give the upper hand to the witty prey. As the chosen four made their way through the long grasses in search of their objectives, I caught a glimpse of Sally across the map. She turned this way and that, looking at crumbling brick structures that must have formed walls around the asylum in its prime, before her head picked up as though someone had shouted her name. Nea had mismatched a set of wires and caused the generator to explode, which in turn attracted the Nurse's attention.

I could see the tension when their eyes locked across the open land between them. Nea's unwillingness to run, and Sally's unwillingness to hunt. Claudette, who'd been dutifully working at Nea's side, scooted away before she could attract the woman's attention, but she needn't have worried. Sally's will to kill was not there, and this would be an easy win for the survivors. I watched the raggedy woman begin gliding over the dust in their direction.

"It seems you chose wrong," I muttered half to myself, half to the Entity who I knew was always lurking in the back of my mind. "She doesn't want to kill them."

_Give it time. The little nuisances will aggravate her into a rage… and if they don't, then I will step in._

"You might want to step on it, then." Sally was closing the distance between herself and the survivors, peering at the generator curiously as Nea prattled on about its repair needs. Sure enough, Sally had taken the wires in her own dainty fingers, attempting to match them and clear the debris from the inner workings of the cogs alongside the street savvy girl. Claudette had returned out of cautious curiosity, and soon Jake and Meg were approaching as well, their morbid curiosity getting the better of their desire to outlive each other in this Trial. This was not good. The survivors were learning that this killer could be bought, could be trusted. This killer was a friend.

"This is what you lot have to do in one of these, what, Trials…?" The Nurse trailed off as she, herself, crossed a wrong wire and caused another explosion. "These confounded things are a nuisance, aren't they?"

"Of all things, the Entity chose generators for us to do during Trials." Meg rolled her eyes, leaning over the top of the machine, watching the cogs and pistons begin to pump and churn to life as the repairs went fully underway with Jake's careful hands. "Jake and Dwight are pretty good at repairing these damned things, but I prefer to run about and keep the killers occupied… Though I guess I'm not doing that this round, huh?" She broke into a grin, which I think the Nurse gave her own amused sound which I think was a laugh.

That's not what the Entity wanted.

I heard a growl of discontent, felt the rustle of Its presence in the back of my head dissipate as though It had unlatched from Its home nest. Sure enough, I saw Its inky black shadow cross over the dirt below the wall, darting straight for the group ahead. It seized hold of Sally's leg, slithering Its way up her grimy skin until It had disappeared.

The change happened slowly. Sally swayed a bit in place, watching the other survivors clustered around the generator, a white-knuckled grip upon her bone saw. She drifted away from them, toes just barely grazing the dirt as the orange embers of her power began to crackle around her empty hand, and I imagined had her face not been covered, her cheeks would be pale with whatever realization she was making. I watched the light ooze from her skin, crack it and break it open into glowing lacerations that would not heal too soon. The flesh of her palm lifted from her skin, swirled around itself as a tight, white orb formed between her fingers in a last, desperate attempt to get away from the children that would soon enough find that their trust had been misplaced.

"Sally?" Nea called after the woman, whose form shimmered for only a moment. "Where are you going? Are you okay?"

That's when the Trial really began. The Nurse disappeared from sight, gone from existence and leaving only a few glowing pieces of ember in her stead… only to reappear mere centimeters from Nea's face with a chilling screech. Jake blew up the generator in his scramble to run off, leaving Nea to brace the full, bone-splitting impact of that saw digging into her flesh. Nea echoed a cry of her own, breaking away from her once friend in a startled daze, only to be shoved into the dirt from behind by the ghastly woman. Meg tried her best to get between them, help Nea up, but the woman was set on the girl's demise. She got as far as the gateway to the asylum, the faintest glimmer of hope in her gait, only to be dashed by the dirt in her mouth when Sally was once again upon her. She was lifted unceremoniously, held still by a thin yet strong arm, even as the girl kicked and screamed with all her might. But she could not win an escape from the rusted wrought-iron hook that awaited her shoulder.

The stench of blood hung heavy in the air, looming like a thick red cloud, permeating through the mist more powerfully than the unnerving presence that the Trapper exudes upon those in range. The others were terrified of the death they knew awaited them, a newfound thanataphobia rooting itself deep within their frantic hearts. Their hands were shaking as they set to their generator repairs, making painfully slow progression. Meg, feeling brave, managed to sneak past the Nurse to save Nea, and even was able to keep the thirsting woman from attacking the bloodied victim for a short while.

But Sally never forgot her duties as a nurse, and she never would. She could tell that Nea was still injured. Her instincts were sharp, precise, and even through her stridor she could hear the whimpers of the wounded, smell the scent of blood in the air. She stopped her long-winded pursuit of Meg at an upright wooden pallet, leaving her behind with a raised, glowing fist. I could see what she could; wisps of energy, silhouetting Nea who was doing her best to heal with the scant supplies in a medical kit she had found, the sweat beading her brow as her heart pounded recklessly in her ribs. Her fingers were trembling. The needle in her hand slipped, and in a rush to retrieve it, pricked her fingers with a quiet cry.

I knew better than to look away as not one, not two, but three generators went off. The others had been making work of the generators in the Nurse's distraction. Or could it be the Nurse, when the Entity was the one controlling the body? I could see it now, inky darkness seeping from the bandages at the neck, just barely enough to hide the tears that dampened the old linens. The embers in her hand glowed a sharp, burning white, and her form blinked out of existence. When she reappeared, it was too late for Nea to run. She'd been found, and her end was nigh. Sally tossed her saw aside, maybe to fight against the Entity, but the being was stronger, forcing her hand out towards the girl who'd been thrown against the rock she had been hiding hopelessly behind. Nea was flipped onto her back across the dirt, and the woman lunged forward with a ferocious banshee screech, wrapping her small hands tightly around the girl's throat.

I watched the life drain from Nea's eyes. I watched her breath escape her lungs, watched her muscles feebly spasm in a battle to breathe. No matter how much she hit and fought against the woman, her strength was ebbing, until there was none left. Her arms fell to the dirt, where she would stay until the Entity reset the Trial grounds. Sally, still hunched over top of her, raised a shaking hand to Nea's face, stroked her dirty cheek with a blood-spattered thumb, then shut her eyes mercifully against the cruelty of the sky. Then she was rising, retrieving her saw from where it lay beside her victim, in pursuit of the others.

The Trial went quickly after that. Another generator had shambled along, but no sooner had its light touched the sky did the workers hit the dust. The Nurse had set her eyes upon the swift Meg, choosing to ignore Claudette or simply not seeing the dark girl in the cover of the long grass. Their run was much shorter this time, a majority of the odd-colored pallets having been use on their earlier romp, and Meg's journey to the hook was swift. Jake was next, and not even is iron will could stop the Nurse from honing in on his subtle grunts of pain. He was next to go on another wrought iron pillar. Claudette, terrified out of her wits at the fall of her comrades, shrunk away from the activity in one of the vacant corners, shuddering like a leaf. For a brief, exhausting moment, I felt an ounce of pity for the girl's plight, but it was spent just as quickly as her life. The Nurse had found her at last in the tall grass, and made quick work of chasing her down.

They managed four generators overall before they met their fates. Each now hung upon a hook, the Entity's claws slowly materializing about their weakened states. Sally, having no more use, resigned herself to the asylum, and no sooner had she slipped inside did Jake make one last, feeble effort to unhook himself. And he did, wrenching himself free and leaping towards where Meg was quickly losing her fight against the ravenous claws. The Nurse could not make it to him before she, too, was off the hook, sprinting with a burst of speed for the sobbing Claudette while Jake hollered and yelled profanities at Sally. I had never heard him use such colorful language, not even towards Dwight, though maybe that was the thanataphobia that was rooted deep inside him now. With all of them injured, and the threat of death hanging heavy, it was understandable that he would rather stand and fight than run.

This perplexed Sally. She raised a glowing fist, disappearing into the void so that she may close the distance between her and the riled boy with a raised saw, but when she reappeared before Jake, she was not met with screams and running. She was met with his own fist, swung hard into her belly with the force of all his weight behind it. She gasped and gagged, with an unnatural stumble to one side, but her reprieve was not for long. Jake had her by the collar, shoving his knee upwards into her belly for another blow, then threw her with force against the ground for a final kick in the ribs. This was an interesting turn of events, the survivors coming to blows with killers like this, though I'm sure the Entity is not happy about this sudden turn of events. Sally was suddenly at the mercy of a boy who shouldn't have had the upper hand, reduced to coughing and cowering in the dirt as he lifted his boot for another blow.

It was over in an instant. A hard, scarlet tipped spike shot forth from the ground between Jake's feet, spearing him from below, entering at the groin and exiting at the back of his neck. He stood there in shock, watching his blood dribble from his mouth, before sliding off of his skewer in a bloody, dead heap. Instant death, then, if you raised a hand to the hunters. Sally coughed and rose once more, seemingly casting a glare at the dead boy, before continuing her pursuit of the other two.

They must have had a generator in the works somewhere. The last generator needed to power the gates whirred to life, sending a surge of electricity through the underground wires towards the doors. This brought interest and a knowledge of where to look for the last two, an opportunity that Sally was not going to pass up. No one escapes her. No one escapes death. Not even a mewling, pathetic girl and the tomboyish ginger that aided her. Meg was pulling hard at the gate's lever when Sally found her, quickly yanked off of it and hung for a final time upon a hook not far from sweet escape.

Claudette had found an alternative escape, not one that any of us could have foreseen. Barely, with a hum as quiet as the wind, a flap of metal opened from the otherwise solid ground. The dirt had fallen away from its façade, leaving it bare for anyone to find if they knew how to look. When Meg had officially been accepted as a sacrifice, the makeshift hatch opened wide with a chilling, windy air. The girl hesitated at its edge, peering in to see what lay beyond the inky darkness inside, but the Nurse's oncoming screech had her tumbling inside in a hurry. She was gone, her echoing scream dulling until the only sound left was the air rushing from the darkness.

"What is that?" I mumbled partly to myself, partly to the woman as I made my way off the wall and towards the thing. "Did you know about this?"

_I did not know about this. I do not know how it came to be. _Its voice echoed from the mouth of the woman, an unnatural reverberance of her pitch mixed with the voices of so many more. The words took shape, a black wisp of smoke slipping between the rags that wrapped her head until the Entity had solidified Itself into the shape of a crow. It hopped forward in the grass, cocking Its head to one side so that It may inspect the hatch with a beady red eye. _Though I must admit, I am impressed that this thing has come to be._

"Well… whoever had a hand in it has been in this place for a while, to know how to break the fabric of your worlds with this… thing." The sound was nauseating. Listening to it for even the shortest amount of time was fit to make your head spin. "Any ideas? It is your Realm, I don't have any control of who comes in and out."

The crow cocked Its head to the other side, before taking off in a few wing beats to instead rest upon my shoulder. _Only one comes to mind, though I wasn't sure if he had perished or not. I have not seen nor heard him in the passing of time, though perhaps this contraption of his is the reason for it… and I'm inclined to keep it as a proper function of the Trials. I can't make it too easy for my precious hunters, can I?_

Well, that's fair. The Trapper had a fair enough time capturing and killing his victims, and the Wraith and Hillbilly were not far behind in death count. Though if the survivors lose the sense that maybe there's no hope for survival in these Trials, they won't even try to survive. This newfound, unexpected solution solved a problem they didn't even know they had yet. An escape hatch, a quick way out if you were the last alive in a Trial that had quickly gone south.

_I will leave her to you. Return to the camp when you are done… I've business to do, and so do you. _

The crow dissipated in a flurry of feathers. Work to do… either searching for the fellow who invented the hatch or spying on the Outside to see who would be sucked in next. Though it seemed too early to pull someone else in so quickly, unless It had amassed that much power already. But as for work that I had to do, what more could it possibly want from me? I already cleaned up the messes from after the Trials, I stocked the chests, and I had been, for the most part, deciding who goes in and who doesn't. My only reward so far had been the ease of not fearing death, nor its harbinger. But, since there's nothing else to do, it was better than anxiously awaiting a Trial I couldn't hope to get out of.

I kicked the hatch shut and bent down towards Sally, gathering up the surprisingly heavy woman in a fireman's carry to cart her towards the building. It was reasonable to assume her energy had been spent; after all, she had been possessed by the Entity to carry out what she would not do willingly. But the gasp and wheeze of air escaping her throat led me to be suspicious that maybe she couldn't breathe as well as she could before. A punishment for defying her master. But she did it to herself, defying the Entity's wishes, and so I could not bring myself to feel bad for her plight.

"… put me down."

A hand pushed on my shoulder, and I let her fall to her feet just inside the open doorway of the building. She tottered, then regained her balance once she was floating barely a hair's breadth from the ground. She would not raise her head, would not dare chance a look at me, even though I could not see her face. I could feel the seething rage inside of her, vicious, toxic. She would be cruel in the Trials to come, a bane to survivors and a boon to the Entity.

"Rest up. The Entity will call upon you again soon." I muttered, brushing past her on my way back out and towards the door. "And your antics today won't be overlooked any time soon. You are the hunter, they your prey. It's best you get used to this order of things. That's how it will be."

I pretended not to hear her muted sobs through pained gasps of air. It's not my job to quiet her tears.

.

.

.

"The hell happened, Jake? I heard you screaming up a storm, and then without warning, you were dead!" Meg was chastising Jake back at the camp, hands planted firmly upon her hips. You didn't have to be a genius to gather what she was talking about. "What kind of idiot do you gotta be to die that fast? You weren't hooked, I don't even think you were killed, so what the hell did you do?"

Jake's scowl was dark upon his face, a hard, dark-eyed stare burning into the dirt at his feet. At first, I wasn't sure he would answer, but I finally heard the quiet words brush past his parched lips, "I punched her."

"You did what?" Dwight's head picked up from where he was seated across from the fire. "Back up, you punched the killer?" Jake's cold stare never faltered from the ground, but his head bobbed with his affirmation. "Why the hell did you punch her?"

"She was acting friendly with us, when the round started. I don't know why, if she was just going to snap like that and kill us anyway." Jake grumbled, limping towards the log opposite Dwight so that he could sit. It seemed their dislike of each other was being set aside for now. "She almost had all of us… I got lucky and managed to pull myself off the hook, save Meg. But she wanted us back on those damned things, and I didn't want to die. You don't understand, there's something about this… this witch of a woman, you can't help but be terrified of death. And I started screaming, and shouting, because if we were going to die anyway, I wanted to at least give the other two a chance to get away for a bit."

"So, when she got close to you…"

"I punched her," Jake finished for the pig-tailed girl. "She was in front of my face, and I swung first. I don't think she expected it, and I managed another two blows, then I was dead, and being spat out back at camp. I don't know how she killed me."

"The Entity killed you." I brought their attention to where I had been standing in the shadow of the surrounding forest, though only three pairs of eyes were upon me, not five. "It was a warning, should you decide to do that nonsense again. It will not stand for your bullshit." Jake said nothing more, resolving himself to silence. "Where is Claudette?"

"We haven't seen her yet." Dwight answered quietly, scanning the woods now with a nervous heat to his gaze. "Did she die?"

"The opposite, actually." I heard the soft rustle of feet on dead leaves, and discovered the girl approaching the dimly lit campsite. Our eyes met, and I couldn't help but smirk at her startled look. "There you are." She blushed with shame and turned her head down, as though she had done something wrong. "Go join the others, good job on your survival."

"You survived?" Meg broke into a grin, opening her arms for the shy girl to come forward for a hug. "How? We still had to get the gates open! And she was so fast!"

"There was an escape hatch." Claudette couldn't help her own smile, hesitantly accepting Meg's request at intimacy. The two embraced, Meg's radiant smile not unlike the neon signs that stood outside of the gas station in the Wraith's Realm. "I knew if I went for the door, I'd be dead, so I was just waiting… but then I heard this kind of whistling sound, like air being blown against the rim of a glass bottle. When I saw it, I wasn't sure what it was, but I jumped in when the Nurse started coming towards me."

"There's an escape hatch? When was that a thing?" Jake cried out with indignation. "How many Trials have we done where we could have used that!?"

"It's a new thing." I snipped at him, indifferent to his frustration. "Now quit your sass. Don't you have an impalement wound to take care of? Because I'm sure what little remains of your testicles needs to be mended, if there were any there to begin with."

His face flared crimson, but he didn't say anything more. Nothing else needed to be said; Dwight was brought up to speed, everyone was in this little campsite clearing, and what little there was of any possible uprising was quelled as though tossing a match into an ocean. I couldn't begin to fathom that these barely-adults could manage to work together to rebel against a being they couldn't touch. They had already gotten just a millimeter too close in the last Trial, getting friendly with Sally, though the Entity had seen to that quick enough.

Where is the Entity, anyway? It had said It had business, which I assumed was to deal with the inventor of the escape hatch, however I didn't think It would take this long. I didn't want to spend too much longer in the survivor's clearing, favoring the presence of the more mature, quiet killers in their home turfs. Even the Hillbilly kept better company than the bickering of these… children. They were adults, but they surely didn't act like it. I only hoped the next duo it inevitably chose to suck into this hellscape was someone older.

Sure enough, I felt the familiar rustle of the Entity rooting itself into the back of my skull once again. _Have they all returned? _I needn't reply; It could see well enough through my eyes that they were all accounted for. _Good. Here's what you're going to be tasked with. It's occurred to me that if I do not keep a log of their past lives, they will forget and become the same person after a while, with the only difference their physical appearance. As a prevention, you are to log their lives, their traits, and their definitive quirks that assist them in their Trials. _I felt a weight in my left hand, and instinctively my fingers closed around the flat leather of the journal now materialized into existence. _You will begin with these five. Then, you will move on and do the same for the killers._

I couldn't help the outward groan that rumbled in my chest. Great, now I'm the bookkeeper? After I've completed this task, then what? Will I be left to my own devices?

_Yes. I will even take you to Vigo so that you may have some older company more understanding of your position. Now get to it._


End file.
